


Carrying on in the Kitchen

by Sproutings



Category: Billabong Series - Mary Grant Bruce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproutings/pseuds/Sproutings
Summary: Miss de Lisle is worried about Norah, worried that the strain of her worry and of constant work is too much for her. Spoiler: regards the book and plot of 'Captain Jim' of the Billabong series.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Carrying on in the Kitchen

Miss de Lisle was worried. She had an excellent post as a cook-lady, doing respectable work for men on leave from the Front, in the beautiful depths of Surry, living with and working for a rather extraordinary family. The family was the Linton family of Billabong, Australia. They had sent up camp – as it were – in England for the duration of the war. For as many times as Miss de Lisle wanted the curse the war and everything about it, she blessed the day that brought the Lintons to England, and herself under their roof. Despite her good fortune during a trying time, she was worried. After the news had come about Captain Jim Linton – he had been so very, very recently made a captain, and who had never got to taste the cake that she had invented in his honour – Norah had been “carrying on”.

Norah worked tirelessly, mechanically, patriotically.

Miss de Lisle admired Norah’s pluck, but she worried about her young employer as she rocked to and fro in her rocking chair. She was not completely sure if Norah’s and Mr Linton’s way was exactly sustaining: It was all very well to carry on with work, get the job done, business as usual. Miss de Lisle guessed quite correctly that it was sometimes harder to remember the death and to talk about Jim as someone who was actually gone, than to just carry on.

In Australia, Mr Linton had made a successful living through hard work. When his young wife died, leaving him to grieve with a young son and infant daughter, he worked to grant more success to his station and the men who worked for him, he worked for his children, and he worked for himself. Without his work he would not have known what to do. His children had been too young to really talk to, then, and work was his solitude of heart, and rest for his mind.

Now, as then, he worked. Perhaps he did not quite realise that Norah was now of age to be depended on – he knew that he could depend on her to run the house, with the help of Miss de Lisle, and he knew that she was as reliable as anyone in the saddle and around the station. He was not quite as aware that Norah was growing in matters of the heart as well, and could be more depended on to have a heartfelt conversation with.

Norah followed her father’s lead. She worked as he worked, kept everything running smoothly, she knew all about the farm and how it was to proceed, she understood how to help the residents of Homewood keep well, rest, and mend. She did not quite understand that if she had talked about the heavy pain that she carried in her heart with her father, or Mrs Hunt, or with another of the many sympathetic residents, she might have been lifted of a featherweight at least of her burden. Almost every minute of every day, though, it weighed her down. The children of the Hunt household were a help to her, of course. But Norah was growing quickly, and needed someone more of a woman to confess to. Norah’s own chums were all so far away, and it was not the same to write a letter and wait weeks for a reply. No heart-to-heart conversation is carried on so well when it must be intercepted by pen, paper and ink.

Miss de Lisle was not cognisant of the Lintons’ history, but she knew human hearts and heads. They thought they were carrying on with business as usual, but, as one young gunner had remarked, it was just like dancing at a funeral. It affected the resident too – they felt like a burden upon their hosts and, while they enjoyed their stay at Homewood, it had lost the spark of home that had once burned so brightly and vividly.

Miss de Lisle stirred herself. Why, there were things to do – always in a house of this size! Miss de Lisle was not one to complain about work, and she went away willingly to begin dinner for the family, guests and staff. Still, in the comfortable, cushioned rocking chair that she quitted she left a sigh behind.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Miss de Lisle had got an idea. Ages ago, it seemed, she and Norah had promised each other to bake a soufflé in the kitchen and eat it right on the stove top as soon as it came out of the oven.  
Perhaps it would be a good time now to redeem that promise. It would be something different for Norah – it might not exactly cheer her, but it would give her a chance to take a rest from the never ending list of jobs. Miss de Lisle knew that she would never have a hope of getting her employer to stay in bed all day, or to sit and listen to music, or read, or do anything that relied on being in the supine position, but cooking a delicious dessert was close enough to work that it might just satisfy her.

There was the question of eggs, though. It was wartime, and where would one find eggs? Enough eggs for a dessert for the sheer fun of it – perhaps that was a frivolity, in a time when frivolities were scarcer than hen’s teeth. To think that she should be living in a time when eggs were scarcer than their layer’s teeth! Miss de Lisle’s similes may have been getting a bit mixed up in her determination to give Norah a treat. Her determination was not to be put off by anything like that. She told herself that she would get eggs, by George, she would.

Mr Linton and Norah had recently doubled the flock of hens in the fowl-run. But she herself had planned out how many eggs would be used and how many would be preserved with Norah. How would she save eggs when their futures had all been decided, down to the pickling jars to be used? And, besides, she could never steal from her employers, or from the war effort. That was what the house was for, after all. That was why she had a job.

Well, then, how was she to make a soufflé without eggs? Miss de Lisle’s soul was mortified at the idea. It could be said that her mind and body ran to a full stop.   
Just as Miss de Lisle had stopped with her knife in mid-air, Norah came in to the kitchen. She held a sealed and stamped envelope in her hand. “Miss de Lisle, have you anything for the post? I have just finished a letter to Wally and the post goes tomorrow.”

Miss de Lisle said no, she had no letters to send, and enquired after Wally.

“He always says he is well, but his letters aren’t the same. I think he hasn’t… adjusted yet. Poor Wally says he doesn’t want to come on his next leave, but I have urged him to do so.” Norah looked at Miss de Lisle, and saw that her mind was on other matters. “Is anything wrong, Miss de Lisle?”

“Eggs…. No, nothing the matter. I just… Hm, well, nothing’s wrong.” Miss de Lisle was not very convincing.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Norah said and went out.

Wally eventually sent word that he would indeed come to Surrey, if they were sure he wouldn’t be a bother. They were to send him away as soon as they wanted, he said.

Miss de Lisle planned to make the soufflé the day before Wally’s arrival. She was glad to see that Norah appeared to be doing better, except for when she was in the kitchen. Norah had always found comfort and solace in the kitchen – it reminded her of many happy hours spent over the teapot with Brownie, concocting puddings, and having jolly times in general. The kitchen was a place to nourish, to confide, to relax oneself. So, Norah indeliberately let the façade slip while she was in the kitchen of Homewood. The cook-lady was anxious when she saw this, but gladdened by the thought that Norah was a bit more of herself when she was there. She did not laugh – she had not laughed yet, since the news – or even smile much, but she was less automatic and more liable to sit down for five minutes with a cup of tea. A day in the kitchen, making a soufflé was just what she needed, Miss de Lisle was convinced.

Miss de Lisle reasoned to herself that, if she skimped on her use of eggs for maybe a week, she could save enough for a small soufflé. She would be saving them to cheer Norah up, and Norah was doing work for the war effort. It all went to the same cause, in a round-about way.

Nobody noticed – least of all Norah – that the scrambled eggs at breakfast were slightly less voluminous, nor that the cakes were a little less rich. The residents were surprised enough to see either that they could have been made out of rubber, considering the speed at which they ate.

Miss de Lisle kept a basket of eggs under a cloth in the pantry. She was terribly strict that week in letting Katty and Bride into the pantry. They looked agog at each other, wondering why the cook-lady had such a bee in her bonnet all of a sudden. They obeyed her command, however, as a soldier obeys his general. Goodness knows what would have happened if they had not.

The day before Wally Meadows was to arrive at Homewood, Miss de Lisle had Norah in the kitchen for the morning. Miss de Lisle had had to tell her young employer that she needed Norah for the morning – otherwise, Norah would be busy housekeeping, studying lessons with Mrs Hunt, looking after children, looking after correspondence, or fulfilling another of her numerous duties.

With Norah safely booked in for the morning, but unknowing as to the reason, Miss de Lisle felt it safe to bring the eggs out of their hiding place. She came out of the pantry with a conspiratorial air. The eggs were still covered in their basket, as a prized treasure is covered from view by a veil of mystery.

“Miss Norah, I hope that you will not have minded what I have done. I have taken a liberty to be sure, but I reasoned it out with myself and I truly feel that my morals are not at fault, and if they are you may be assured that I have done what I have with only the best inte-“ 

The cook-lady was cut short as Norah suddenly asked, with due alarm after the rambling and reasoning: “What is it?”

Miss de Lisle placed the basket on the table, and displaced the teatowel with a flourish. “Eggs. Enough for a small soufflé.”

With her confession confessed, the basket basking in the light of the bright kitchen, and the conscientious keeper of the house before her, Miss de Lisle suddenly grew resigned and silent as she waited for Norah’s judgement.

“What is this?” Was all that Norah had to say. Her countenance expressed the same question and confusion.

“Do you recall that we promised to have a soufflé fresh out of the oven? I thought that perhaps now would be a good time to do it. I have saved some eggs – economically, not underhandedly – and I thought it would be too good a chance to miss.”

Norah gazed down at the eggs. When she looked up, Miss de Lisle was rewarded with a light in Norah’s grey eyes, and a gentle smile on her lips. “Oh Miss de Lisle, that sounds simply… good.”

The morning passed happily, with Miss de Lisle and Norah taking turns in all of the engagements of cooking. Miss de Lisle beat the egg whites with vigour and was comforted by the thought that she had good feelings in her soul to pour into the white, foamy mass. Norah prepared the tin, and kept an eye on the oven – prepared earlier by Miss de Lisle. Norah supplied both of them with several cups of tea. Biscuits they had not – those treats were kept for the residents and for regular afternoon teas. Anyway, their appetites needed to be sufficiently strong in readiness for their pre-luncheon dessert.  
When the mixtures were combined, the tin prepared, the oven declared to be at the perfect temperature, the soufflé was carefully slid into the oven to bake.

Norah sat down with a grateful sigh. She automatically picked up some knitting that she had brought in with her, and continued with her sock. She had found some rather jolly red wool in the attic, and meant to surprise Wally with a ridiculously gaudy pair of warm socks. Miss de Lisle would have disapproved of her working when she ought to rest, but even she would condone the knitting of socks if it was to be done for Wally’s sake.

“Miss de Lisle, thank you for this morning. I know that it must have been tricky to save all of those eggs.” Norah smiled over her busy needles.

“It was for a good cause.” Miss de Lisle said as her own needles clicked away just as industriously as she knitted a sensibly coloured sock.

“I am always so tempted to peek in the oven to see how it’s going – but of course I can’t do that to a soufflé. I shall just have to wait.”

“Indeed you will just have to.” Miss de Lisle nodded sagely.

So they sat in comfortable, companionable atmosphere of the kitchen. Miss de Lisle heated the kettle for another cup of tea each, and, still, they worked. Miss de Lisle ached to reach out to Norah and put her careworn hands of the young, smooth ones, and get them to rest for just a moment. Norah would not stop though.

Norah was touched by the love that she saw in Miss de Lisle’s actions. She enjoyed being in the kitchen, but she could not be truly happy. She would not allow herself to feel too down or constrained by the people around her who cared for her. She just kept steadily on.

The soufflé was brought out of the oven at the scientific moment, and enjoyed heartily by Miss de Lisle and Norah. It was a good soufflé, with good lift, airiness, and flavour. Norah did not eat much of it, although she joined in with Miss de Lisle’s praise. There was something missing though.

Once they had consumed as much as they wished, Norah was called out to help Phil Hardress with some job or other. Miss de Lisle once again sighed, and worried.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Months passed. The eldest Hunt child fell ill with scarlet fever. Norah cared for him, and was laid up after it. Once she recovered physically, it was more evident to everyone that she was struggling. Miss de Lisle was more upset than glad to see that her predictions were confirmed. Constant work and carrying on would not sustain one so young after such a loss. Miss de Lisle helped Norah as much as she could. She undertook as many of Norah’s duties as she could, and bothered her as little as possible over kitchen affairs. When she met with Mr Linton to discuss food storage or some such matter, she saw the worry in his eyes.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Allenby, the butler, came into the kitchen one afternoon to tell Miss de Lisle that Wally would soon be home on leave. He had been wounded, but was doing alright now. As Allenby predicted, Miss de Lisle decided to invent a new dish for him.

“I know that he is partial to his sweets, but I was thinking a nice savoury something. Let me see.”

She rummaged in the pantry, hunting out this and that to put together into a hearty dish to feed the young, world-weary man. She pulled out her own patent recipe book. Whenever she invented a new dish, she wrote it down as soon as she possibly could so as to be able to recreate it. It was an aggravating thing to have food flit in and out of one’s mind as easily as dreams did, she had found. She emerged from the recess of the pantry with an assortment of vegetables, her recipe book, and plans to double check the cold storage for meat. She always had a good idea of what was there, but it never hurt to check.

She laid her cargo down on the bench and opened the recipe book. Why, here was the recipe of the cake that she had invented for Captain Jim, that she had never got to make. It was a soufflé of sorts, with added panache in the form of dried fruits. In honour of him, she would make that tonight, too. She needn’t tell anyone if it would upset them. It would be her private homage to Jim and Wally.  
Miss de Lisle got to work. Soon, she heard the familiar sounds of a household preparing for dinner. Doors opening, footsteps on the ground floor of the house, voices. She heard familiar voices – that must be Wally home already. It was earlier than she expected him. She frowned. It sounded familiar – probably Wally, but not exactly like him. Of course, he had changed so much from the boyish bundle of hilarity that she had first met.

Allenby rushed into the kitchen. Gone was his usual butleresque calm. He announced breathlessly “Miss de Lisle! Oh, oh my. The ‘uns couldn’t get ‘im. Miss de Lisle – Captain Jim is back.”

Allenby rushed around the kitchen, saying all of the things that would have to be done – beds made, dinner extended, shoes polished, brass polished, anything polished – and Miss de Lisle clapped her hands, causing her face to be clouded with flour. Her radiant happiness was not to be covered, though. She smiled mightily and caught up Allenby, and shoved him out of the door. “Allenby! Get Katty or Bride to make his bed and light a fire there – get them to chop down a tree if we haven’t the wood already! I need to finish dinner.”

She wished to rush to see the young man, but was wise enough to let the family bask in his presence. As a good cook-lady, she was happy to pour her very best thoughts and wishes into the dinner that she was creating. With added delight and concentration she mixed, blended, stirred, basted, baked, and, in general, prepared a dinner to be declared a feast in wartime.  
At last, dinner was ready, and, with much bustle, some laughter, and embraces on the way to the dining room, the family sat down. Miss de Lisle felt happiness in the very depths of her soul as Norah acted as hostess for her father, brother, and best chum. Perhaps the four happy people realised just what they were eating, but perhaps not. It was declared by one and all as one of the best meals that they ate on that side of the Atlantic.

When Miss de Lisle told Norah that the pudding was a soufflé of sorts, to alert her that the serving spoon would be hot, Norah formed a plan. “Miss de Lisle, don’t bring it out. I’ll be in in a moment.”  
Norah excused herself quickly, and backed toward the door to the kitchen. She kept her eyes on Jim for as long as she could, and then hastily turned around and announced: “I’ll get the bowls, you heat the spoon, please.”

Miss de Lisle did as was requested, and put the spoon in a jug of hot water.

Norah clattered out six bowls on the bench next to the oven, with six spoons. She flew around the kitchen to heat a kettle and set out cups, milk, and other paraphernalia. She may have put out salt in her haste, instead of sugar, but Miss de Lisle caught on and corrected this mistake.

When Miss de Lisle pronounced the soufflé as finished, Norah went out into the dining room. She got everyone out of their seats, and whisked her family and Allenby into the kitchen.

“Now, everyone, Miss de Lisle made this in your honour, Jim, I’m quite sure. It has the very best of her love in it, which is why we simply must share it right here.”

And so, Miss de Lisle was finally able to see Norah eat the very best soufflé, with the very best of her soul and heart in it, in the kitchen of Homewood.


End file.
